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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22962055">But the Story Is This</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacestationtrustfund/pseuds/spacestationtrustfund'>spacestationtrustfund</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Curses, Humor, Linear Time Is Overrated Anyways, Magic, Multi, Shenanigans, everyone is bi because I said so</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 13:00:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,274</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22962055</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacestationtrustfund/pseuds/spacestationtrustfund</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After an unfortunate Jaskier is caught <em>in flagrante</em> with a nobleman's wife, the nobleman in question curses him. The curse doesn't, for which Jaskier is grateful, manifest itself visibly... or so he thinks.</p><p>(You know, just another possible Watsonian explanation for why Jaskier never seems to age.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>661</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>But the Story Is This</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexicon/gifts">Alexicon</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is Alex's fault. Obviously.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It wasn't Jaskier's fault, per se.</p><p>How was he to know that the beloved wife of the highly esteemed Lord Nikodem Parzych would have harbored such a grudge? He'd rather thought his skills in the bedroom had been anything but lacking; at the very least, he'd always prided himself on his ability to allow a woman to enjoy herself. The Lady Zuzanna had appeared perfectly satisfied at the time—and after all, how was he, Jaskier, to know that she <em>hadn't</em> been pleased with his performance were she to keep her thoughts to herself?</p><p>Preposterous, really.</p><p>He'd been in the middle of leisurely gathering up his clothes when Zuzanna's husband had burst into the room, his paunchy face as red as a krewjagody plant in the summertime.</p><p>"<em>YOU!</em>" Lord Parzych roared, spittle flying, as he brandished one jewellery-studded finger in Jaskier's direction. "GET AWAY FROM MY Wife!"</p><p>"Hold on now, hold on, this isn't what it looks like," Jaskier stammered, flailing his arms helplessly.</p><p>His dignity had taken a rather ignominious tumble, given that he was hopping about on one leg trying to fasten his trousers with one hand, and the Lady Zuzanna was now shrieking to high heaven, her once-neat coiffed hair in disarray and the sheets tangled around her (voluptuous and appealing) body. Jaskier scrambled around to the other side of the bed (a truly impressive four-poster bedecked in expensively embroidered curtains), hoping to avoid the Lord's incensed furor.</p><p>Parzych advanced threateningly. "I'LL TEAR YOU LIMB FROM LIMB AND FEED YOU TO MY HUNTING DOGS," he bellowed, gesturing at Jaskier, "I'LL CUT OUT YOUR FUCKING TONGUE AND YOUR FINGERS AND MAKE YOU EAT THEM—I'LL CASTRATE YOUR <em>CHUJ</em> WITH MY OWN HANDS, YOU <em>SLUT</em>—"</p><p>"Woah, woah!" Jaskier backpedaled even further, hands raised in a futile attempt to defend himself. He realized a moment too late that releasing his grip on his trousers led to a rather unfortunate spectacle. "I'm rather fond of my body parts, thank you very much! Can we maybe talk about things first! You see, the lady and I were only—"</p><p>"ENOUGH," roared Parzych, eyes popping with apoplectic fury, and flung his open palm towards Jaskier.</p><p>"Shit!" Jaskier yelped, panicked.</p><p>He ducked automatically, thinking there would be a blade headed in his direction, but what left the Lord's hand was a sort of fine yellow powder, the color of fresh buttercup petals. Jaskier cowered, trying to cover his face, but the powder didn't explode or turn him into a toad, or anything else that would have been expected, so Jaskier wrinkled his nose against the rather pungent smell and stood up again slowly.</p><p>"Erm," he said, feeling horrendously awkward. "I think you might want to ask for a refund from whichever Mage sold you that—seems a bit defective to me—"</p><p>"SILENCE!"</p><p>Jaskier closed his mouth.</p><p>He managed to keep his tongue to himself all the way up until the guards were dragging him into the dungeon and shackling him to the wall, despite how he kicked and squirmed like a glistworm. "Just wait until my friend hears about this," he shouted.</p><p>The guards ignored him.</p><p>"I'm telling you, when he gets here, you'll wish you were nicer to me!—he's a <em>Witcher</em>, you hear that, he could slice you all into pieces in two seconds flat—"</p><p>No reaction whatsoever.</p><p>Jaskier tried to kick them in the shins, which only resulted in his legs being shackled as well. "Let me go! You'll regret this!"</p><p>The guards ignored him.</p><p>"You could at least let me pull up my trousers!"</p><p>No response.</p><p>"Bastards!" Jaskier hollered, but the guards didn't even bother to look back over their shoulders when they shut the door.</p><p>Well, fuck them, then.</p><p>Heartless ghouls, the lot of them.</p><p>Jaskier thumped his head back against the uncomfortable stone wall. "Damn it," he muttered to himself. "Geralt, now would be a good time to come rescue me," he called out, just in case the man himself was somehow listening, "work your mysterious sexy Witcher magic, or whatever it is you do..."</p><p>Nothing.</p><p>His legs were starting to get cold. Jaskier banged his head on the wall again, then regretted it.</p><p>A new and horrifying thought came to him. "Hey! What if I have to piss?"</p><p>Still nothing.</p><p>"At some point, you'll have to come back to feed me, you know," Jaskier said aloud. "Then you'll be sorry..."</p><p>Of course, there was always the possibility that Parzych would decide to let him rot down there forever. But no, surely Geralt would come rescue him before that happened!</p><p>Wouldn't he?</p><p>//</p><p>"You're an idiot," Geralt announced.</p><p>Jaskier blinked up at him, still half asleep (he'd been having a very pleasant dream, which involved Geralt being much nicer than he usually was, among certain other activities). "Hwuht?"</p><p>Geralt shook his head impatiently, then reached down and scooped up Jaskier around the waist, hoisting him like a sack of grain onto his shoulder. Before Jaskier had time to protest, or swoon, or respond in any way beyond shocked indignation, Geralt had already stomped out through the (now broken beyond repair, thanks to Geralt's indecorous entrance) door and deposited Jaskier on the muddy ground.</p><p>"Hey!" Jaskier spluttered. "You could have at least let me put my trousers back on, you—you—you <em>lout</em>!"</p><p>Geralt leveled him with a supremely unimpressed glare for a moment, then grunted with his usual eloquence, and turned away. Jaskier scrambled to his feet, yanking his clothes back on as he stumbled after Geralt. "Hold on! Wait for me!"</p><p>"Go away," Geralt said.</p><p>"Oh, come on! <em>You</em> rescued <em>me</em>, you don't get to just tell me to—"</p><p>"Shut up," said Geralt, looking incredibly pained. Maybe he was developing a headache. Or intestinal parasites. Or a penchant to brutally murder whoever was within reach, in which case—</p><p>Jaskier shut up.</p><p>//</p><p>Yennefer was absolutely terrifying, that was the first thing to remember. Not that it would be easy to forget, Jaskier thought gloomily, prodding at the last dregs of the fire. The rain had stamped out any hope of a spark, but he was cold and miserable enough to try again. It certainly couldn't hurt anything other than his wounded dignity at this point, given that Jaskier—not to mention everything else in the area—had long since been soaked through.</p><p>"Oh, damn it," he groused, throwing down the twig petulantly and rubbing his frigid hands together.</p><p>Geralt could have probably lit a blazing bonfire in seconds, but Geralt was still scouting slightly further up the mountain. And Yennefer could have probably snapped her fingers and made the rain itself stop falling, but she would almost certainly never do something like that, because it would make Jaskier less miserable, and she would never even consider—</p><p>"If your fire-starting skills are any indication of your ability in other areas, I pity the women you've bedded," said a dry, humorless voice from behind him, and Jaskier startled and made a truly undignified squeaking noise that he would deny ever having made if questioned.</p><p>"Yennefer," he said, once he'd recovered himself. "I'll have you know I've never received any complaints in that area before."</p><p>Her eyebrows shifted towards her hairline. "Is that so."</p><p>"Well, there was one time," Jaskier admitted. "But that was her husband, really—"</p><p>"You slept with a woman and <em>then</em> her husband? For your sake, I pray each knew of the other's affairs."</p><p>"I did not," said Jaskier, indignant. "He was a grotesque excuse for a human. I wouldn't have slept with him were he the last man in Ziema."</p><p>Yennefer's dark purple eyes almost looked amused. She pulled her furs a little tighter about her shoulders; of course <em>she</em> was plenty warm, damn her. "How about this," she said. "A trade. You tell me the story, and I'll light the fire."</p><p>Jaskier cast a longing glance towards the damp, soggy cinders. "Fine," he said. "But you first."</p><p>Yennefer snapped her fingers, and the fire roared back to life. She extended her hands, warming them over the blaze. "Your turn, bard," she said.</p><p>"Well. All right," Jaskier said. "Should I fetch my lute—?"</p><p>"Absolutely not."</p><p>"Ah. Erm. Well, in that case, it all started when Geralt and I were in Ziema," Jaskier said. "Have you ever been to Ziema? Lovely little place, really. Governed by the mesne lord—Parzych, if I remember correctly. His wife might not be the most beautiful of ladies, but oh, the tricks she's got up her sleeve—and other places—"</p><p>"Parzych?" Yennefer frowned, contemplative. "I know his great-grandson. Teofil is in command of those lands, last I checked."</p><p>Jaskier shrugged. "Maybe it was a different Parzych. But anyway, Zuzanna—charming woman, by all accounts—she asked me to perform a private concert for her in her boudoir, and well, I wouldn't dream of refusing such a kind request—"</p><p>Yennefer snorted, ungenteel.</p><p>"Oh, shut up, hag," said Jaskier, although he didn't find himself as offended as he likely ought to have been. "She invited me in, so of course I went, and instead of an attentive audience I found her in her underthings, waiting for a very <em>different</em> sort of performance—"</p><p>"Ah," Yennefer said, nodding sagely. "She played you."</p><p>Jaskier swallowed his laughter with determination. "It was a splendid performance—"</p><p>"And the crescendo?"</p><p>"Has anyone ever told you you've got a naughty mind, jędza z Vengerbergu? Anyway, her husband burst in and started shouting and waving his sword like a lunatic—I fended him off as best I could, of course; I was worried he'd harm the lady in his mindless rage, you see."</p><p>"Gallant of you," Yennefer commented, deadpan.</p><p>"<em>Thank</em> you! So I'm defending myself with nothing more than a belt buckle against his rapier, while she's calling for help, and then the great buffoon uncorks a little vial of something and flings it at me—some sort of yellowish powder, likely got it from the local quack Mage, I think his name was Oset or something, probably thinking it would burn off someone's skin, or turn them into a hare, or something useful. But of course it does nothing, so he has me dragged down to the dungeon by a dozen guards—I fought off a few of them, but even I couldn't hold my own against a dozen or so men in armor—and there I languished until Geralt came back to rescue me."</p><p>Yennefer seemed incredibly amused. "How noble of him."</p><p>"I thought so too! He's got a heart of gold underneath that prickly, poisonous exterior," Jaskier said. "Just watch the way he talks to that horse of his, you'll see." He shifted around a little, awkward. "Was that satisfactory, then?"</p><p>"Good enough," said Yennefer. "It is rather funny that you met Nikodem, however. He's been dead for nearly sixty years."</p><p>"Has he?" Jaskier frowned. "He seemed perfectly alive when I saw him."</p><p>Yennefer shrugged delicately. "The trivial life spans of humans don't exactly enthrall me, <em>bard</em>."</p><p>"Hey! I resent that! We're plenty interesting!"</p><p>"Well," said Yennefer, wrinkling her nose. "I suppose you're entitled to your own opinion, no matter how preposterous it may be."</p><p>//</p><p>There was not, unfortunately, a good method of discerning whether or not Yennefer's jocose information was correct, so Jaskier pondered it in silence. The famously irascible Lord Parzych, dead some six decades? Something about it didn't add up. It was always possible that Yennefer, with her Mage's non-linear grasp of time, had made an error (and how Jaskier would have loved to prove something like <em>that</em> to her!), but she'd spoken with such conviction that somehow he doubted it.</p><p>Perhaps it had been a different Parzych after all.</p><p>Geralt returned by the morning, eager to continue on their way, but Yennefer had decided in no uncertain terms that she wanted a bath, and so the three of them trudged over to the quick stream winding down the mountain. Yennefer stripped off her clothes without even a moment's pause, ignoring how Jaskier pointedly clapped his hands over his eyes and turned around until he heard her splashing into the current; only then did he open his eyes enough to squint at the fuzzy shapes of her and Geralt, who had unbuttoned his own shirt and was leading Roach over to drink.</p><p>"I am <em>not</em> taking off my clothes in present company," Jaskier announced, to the mountain at large, but he did concede to crouch down by the edge of the stream so that he could wash his hands and his face.</p><p>Despite the rapidly rushing surface of the water, Jaskier could see clearly that his hair resembled a bird's nest more than anything one would expect to find on the head of a respectable individual. He dipped his hands into the freezing stream, hissing at the cold, and attempted to smooth down the unruly curls. It was a thankless task, truly, and he spared a moment to make a grimacing face at his reflection.</p><p>Eventually, his hair had been tamed enough to present a satisfactory image. Jaskier patted his own head, pleased, then caught sight of his reflection again and frowned, thinking.</p><p>He hadn't paid attention to his own appearance beyond the preliminary before, that much was true. But of course there was no chance that what Yennefer had claimed could be accurate; Jaskier, in addition to not feeling like a man with eighty years under his belt, didn't look the part. Not a day over twenty-seven, he thought, puffing up his chest. Not a single grey hair to be seen.</p><p>Although, he mused, scratching his jaw. A shave wouldn't be amiss. He was starting to grow the most terrible moustache.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>You see, in the games, Jaskier looks like <a href="https://cdn.gamer-network.net/2020/usgamer/witcher-3-dandelion-header.jpg/EG11/thumbnail/1920x1080/format/jpg/quality/65/heres-what-the-witchers-jaskier-looked-like-with-the-classic-dandelion-hat.jpg">this</a>.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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